


"Yes."

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Sherlock December Ficlets 2017 [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Sherlock December Ficlets 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 20:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13174623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Sherlock steps in it when John nearly loses it...





	"Yes."

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of the [Sherlock December Ficlets ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fcollections%2FSherlock_December_Ficlets_2017&t=NjRmODc4ZjE3OGJjNjUzYzg2NWVhY2QzMTRjNDJmOTUwMzdkOTRhMCxabzFVQjBkMA%3D%3D&b=t%3AfMPAp7-tN-90HMCNGHRDOw&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmissdaviswrites.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F167644180668%2Fsherlock-december-ficlets&m=0) challenge. Each will be its own story, though knowing me a couple may follow an arc of sorts.  
> The prompt used for this entry: Party Time / Under The Tree

Sherlock grumbles coming up the stairs to Baker Street with one shoe off. Grousing that the doctor can get his own milk from the grocers the next time he's in a strop.

He half stomps into the flat and heads first to the kitchen, dropping the Tesco bag of groceries on the dining table before reaching under the sink for cleaning rags and cleanser. For a man whose life exists on cold science, solid facts and deductive reasoning, the old wives’ tales of it being good fortune when one’s left foot _steps in it_ , has no place in it, except to add to his already churlish mood for having to go get the groceries in the first place.

Offending footwear in one hand, cleaning products in the other, he was about to call out for John when he turned and was greeted to the scene of presents pushed aside to make room a squirming jean clad arse attached two average length legs with bare feet sticking out from under the Christmas tree accompanied by a series of loud creative cursing, not all of it in The Queen’s English on top of the telly being on. Sherlock’s annoyance immediately dissipates as he takes in the sight.

His entrance clearly unnoticed, Sherlock quickly, but quietly takes the groceries out of the plastic bag and places the offending shoe in it. He idly places the bag, the cleaning products and his other shoe on the floor in the hall to the bathroom to be dealt with later. He hangs up his coat and scarf, moves his chair slightly to the side to improve the view and then sits in John’s chair to enjoy this odd show.

John, oblivious to his audience, continues his creative language, reaching for heaven only knows what as his feet kicked in frustration. Sherlock, paying more attention to the movements of his lover's arse wiggling than his actual verbiage sat another few minutes before realizing the problem: John was stuck under the tree. Somehow the back of his jumper was snagged in the lower branches of the tree and he was having trouble getting out.

Finally listening to the words, informs the detective that John is cursing out something he had hidden in the tree branches. At some point in the past few days, from when it was initially hidden, it must have fallen through the branches, but not all the way to the floor. Sherlock would have seen it, if it had. Inquisitive as always, most would call it nosy, Sherlock had inspected every item under the tree deducing the contents. On Christmas Day itself, he performed the appropriate acts of surprise and appreciation for his presents of course, well for the ones he liked anyway, but Christmas Day held no real surprise for him.

While Sherlock had looked under and around the tree, it never occurred to the idiot genius to look within the branches of the tree itself. Whatever it was, it was small and light and the doctor could not get to it on Christmas Day, Boxing Day or yesterday without being seen. Other than to appear a little out of sorts over realizing Sherlock had already deduced all of the gifts and was putting on an act, which he called him out on later in the day, John had given no indication anything was amiss. He really wanted it to be a true surprise.

Now Sherlock understood why half-hour ago John went on a mini tirade about all the milk being gone, again. Enough of one that Sherlock volunteered to go get the milk and some beans too, just to shut him up. Sherlock's mind went into overdrive as he thought it out.

Now he had a problem. Does he help John out of his snag, literally, and ruin the surprise his lover has worked hard on or quietly back out of the room leaving John to work it out on his own and pretend it's a surprise later?  

“Traitorous rag. You go into the bin as soon as that tree comes down!”

The choice is taken from him as John fusses when he finally wiggles from under the tree at last. Well, the man wiggles out, the jumper remained trapped in its clutches. His bare foot stubs Sherlock's chair making him take notice of its having been moved. Sherlock smirks knowing John realizes he’s there and squirms a little more as he tries to hide what he went under the tree for.

“Dammit, how long have you been sitting there?” He stands quickly seeing a shoeless Sherlock grinning from his chair. That the detective grins, because his hair is sticking out in all directions with his narrow escape from under the vicious machinations of the diabolical Christmas tree (John's words, not Sherlock's), is lost to the doctor.

“Oh, just long enough for this...” The genius, with mobile in hand, quickly types and presses send. A moment later John’s own mobile pings.

“Really Sherlock?” John rolls his eyes as he digs out his mobile in exasperation.

The erstwhile army captain immediately groans seeing the short video of his wiggling rear end and legs sticking out from under the tree and then reads the accompanying text.

_Ooh, party time! You should greet me like this more often when I enter the flat. Trousers and pants optional, of course.-SH_

“Cheeky bastard.” John mutters, shaking his head trying not to smile, but failing.

“Now John, you’ve met my parents, don’t disparage their good name!” Sherlock teases as he stands. The genius tries to keep a straight face, but he simply can’t as he reaches up to straighten John’s hair. He knows army the captain would feel much better knowing he at least did not look like a half crazed hedgehog at this moment as Sherlock takes John's hands in his and kisses him.

Sherlock thinks on the years of friendship and eventual love between them. All that they went through to get here. To get to this moment in their lives. The reality of Captain John Hamish Watson is everything the consulting detective never thought he would want in his life, yet the erstwhile army doctor is everything he ever wanted, and so much more.

He is minded of how lacking it is of the English language to not have such words, as the Portuguese do like _cafuné_ , as his grooming turns into slowly running his long fingers through his love’s silver streaked blond hair, even as he feels John’s strong fingers reaching into his own dark curls.

“What?” John blinks when Sherlock pulls back and shyly holds up John’s left hand, displaying a platinum band on the ring finger. John’s eyes stare in confusion, then in wonder as he understands what he wears. He automatically starts to reach in his pocket, then stops when he realizes Sherlock holds John’s left hand with his own left hand displaying a different platinum band on the ring finger. Sherlock could sunbath in the glow of John's smile as it all clicks.

The detective had deduced it had to be an engagement ring which had John sending Sherlock on a grocery run, so he could go digging under the tree. Sherlock easily dipped into John’s front pocket finding the ring and slipped it onto his own finger, then slipped the ring he had made for John on the doctor's finger while they kissed.

“I was going to propose Christmas Eve, but I couldn’t find it. I wanted you to wake up engaged on Christmas Day.” John kissed the ring on Sherlock’s finger.

“I was waiting for New Year’s Eve. I wanted you to wake up engaged on the first day of the year.” Sherlock kissed the ring on John’s finger in turn.

Sherlock realized then, that this was the good fortune he stepped into, sending him home faster so he would catch John under the tree. To learn how they were of like minds, each wanting to propose to the other on opposite days. They now meet exactly between the two holidays. The universe is indeed rarely so lazy.

“So, I take it I am about to be a brother-in-law, then?” Mycroft's voice is heard at the door. Engrossed in each other, neither heard his entrance. “Can the _happy announcement_ be made at the end of the week at last?”

Sherlock and John glance at Mycroft, getting the snarky reference, but then look to each other again - deep blues into luminous greens.  Left hands now clasped together between them, they smile speaking at the same time.

“Yes.”


End file.
